I’m not quite sure how it came about that I first met Michael Ledeen, but if memory serves it was through his wife, Barbara. I, of course, knew of Michael Ledeen — going back to the 1980s in college. I had one of those left-wing professors who thought every foreign policy disaster in the world was the fault of America and remember that same professor fulminating in class one day about some character responsible for the trumped-up scandal that was Iran-Contra. “Ledeen” was just one of those names that stuck in your head, that you remembered.

I would, of course, recognize his name in op-eds from that point on, and then the conservative journals one subscribes to after college — always reading his works with interest (learning along the way how partisan and dumb, if not how ideologically skewed, political science professors can be). When I moved to Washington, D.C., in my young adulthood, someone once told me that the one person I had to meet was Barbara Ledeen, shocked I didn’t already know her. She was at the Independent Women’s Forum at the time, and, while we had met once or twice, it wasn’t until a bit later that she invited me over to a shabbos dinner at her house. In D.C., in those days, it was fairly easy for young upstarts in the capital to meet with well-known and established public intellectuals and former elected officials. The Ledeens helped make D.C. that way.

That is where I first met Michael — and it would be one of the many times I was fortunate to dine with them, to dine there.

Their table was always full of other scholars, authors, and think tank types, and there was always tons of food. Michael was a gracious host, always, keeping the dinner conversation moving and weighing in here and there until it was over, and he’d lean back or forward and give his summary remarks.

He always had a story, related to his most fascinating of lives, that he’d weave into his point.

I remember the Ledeens befriending my bride and then wife, bringing her into the politically conservative D.C. Jewish fold as well. The first thing the four of us did as a couple was — Barbara’s idea — go visit injured and recovering soldiers at Walter Reed. Which we did. I was struck how much time Michael and Barbara would spend talking with the most injured of the injured.

Many can go on regarding Michael’s scholarship, but I just want to thank the Ledeens, I hope not too late, for being such a great family to so many who, no doubt, have similar stories as I. The Yiddish word I want is heimisch, which is hard to translate, but if you were fortunate enough to ever be in the embrace of the Ledeens, that is the definition.